Chapter 25: Borrowed Time.

Author Note: Nothing of importance, just enjoy the chapter, and if you have any questions, make sure to comment!

And like always, remember if you want to read up to 12 chapters ahead go to https://www.patreón.com/cornbringer

I'm currently updating the novel 2-8 chapters a day in patreeeeon. On chapter 36 so far, though by the end of today it will be chapter 39-40

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Enjoy you sexy bastards.

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[Arata Takeshi - POV]

I watched as everything I had ever known was destroyed.

I watched as people I knew, as innocents, were killed.

I watched everything I cared about was taken from me, and I couldn't do a thing to stop it.

I couldn't help with the Nine Tails, so I couldn't help save Minato or Kushina.

That night, there was no difference between me and the next civilian because, at the end of the day, I had been able to do just as much as them—nothing.

I couldn't help my parents as they were being killed by shinobi from our own village, so they died. I couldn't even feel them as they died because the Nine Tails' chakra was so abrasive, so massive, so overwhelmingly powerful that it had overwhelmed my senses, making it impossible for me to feel anything but that damn beast.

For all the talent and powers I supposedly had, I was more than helpless when I most needed to be strong. I was no better than a fallen leaf, torn from a tree, destined to drift aimlessly on the merciless currents of wind until it was torn apart.

The only reason I had even found out they were killed by our own people was because one of my father's summons had delivered the message. Otherwise, I would've probably believed the lies they told about them at their funeral, saying they died saving others from the Tailed Beast.

It had taken every fiber of my being to not attack Danzo that very same day when he approached me. Then again, I guess it hadn't been so hard… I was so numb with rage that I barely felt a thing as I talked to him.

I didn't know that was possible—feeling so much of something that you end up feeling nothing at all.

I was weak.

I didn't care if my age justified my level of strength.

I didn't care if I was a monster for my age.

I was weak...

I refused to remain like this.

I would become stronger, no… I would become the strongest. I had to. I had to become a shinobi without equal. Not that this goal wasn't any different than the one I had before. So, I suppose the only difference was that now, I wanted to do something once I reached that peak I was after. I wanted to destroy everything Danzo has ever built.

His reign, his influence, his life—it would all come to a bitter and brutal end by my claymore. But not before he was forced to feel what I had felt today. Not before he was stripped of everything he holds dear, just like I was. I would ensure his spirit and mind crumbled to ashes before dealing the final blow.

"My, my, you sure are feeling a lot of hate right now," Teresa said, materializing beside me as a silhouette before solidifying into her usual elegant form, interrupting my train of thought.

"Wouldn't you?" I retorted, a hint of acidic bitterness lacing my words behind my seemingly calm face.

"Can't say I ever felt hate in my life as a warrior, mostly boredom, then happiness during my time with Clare," Teresa shrugged, her silver eyes staring at me. "But now that I think about it, if the organization had killed Clare, I think I would've felt just like you. That being said, it would do you well to remember what happens when claymores like us let emotions, like hate, fester in our hearts."

"If you're concerned about me ending like Priscilla, don't be," I replied, my gaze meeting hers. "I just want justice."

Maybe my idea of justice was a lot closer to what someone would call revenge, but I wasn't a blind idiot that would let his hate consume him. I hated the guy, with all my heart, sure, and for that, I would kill him and everything he stands for. But that was it. My hatred and thirst for blood start and end with him.

Teresa tilted her head, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "That's a thin line you're trying to walk, Takeshi, one that I would love to help you navigate."

"Really? For a moment there, I had the feeling you were against it," I replied with an arched brow, casting a sidelong glance at Teresa.

"Against it? Hardly," Teresa quipped, returning my look with a soft laugh. "I don't even care if you end up killing everyone in this village. As long as you don't let yourself awaken, I will support your choices, no matter how homicidal or morally dubious they are. My only concern is these emotions leading to your awakening. After all, I can't have my one and only student become an Abyssal One. I have a reputation to uphold. Besides, it's hardly necessary to kill the old man."

I suppose I don't care what her reasons for supporting me are, because at the end of the day, as long as she trains me, she can do or think whatever she wants about my motives and actions. "I wasn't planning on it. I still have a lot of people I care about in the village… I care a lot about this place in general. It's my home. It's just that man I want to cut down."

I didn't know much about Danzo, but I knew enough to know he was a cancer… a tumor that needed to be cut out, excised from the heart of Konoha. He had weaved his vile, insidious influence around our village for far too long. It was time to sever those tendrils and restore the health of our home.

Teresa's silver eyes studied me, flickering with an unreadable emotion. "Well, in that case, Takeshi," she began, her tone hinting at a strange mix of amusement and solemnity, "I guess I will have to up your training."

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[Third Person POV.]

[Takeshi's Room.]

That night.

Takeshi lay in his bed, in the remnants of his home, the room dimly lit by the moonlight filtering through the window. Tsuki, the other survivor of his family, curled up beside him, purring softly. He ran his fingers through her soft fur, finding a small measure of comfort in her presence. The events of the day weighed heavily on his mind, the memories of the funeral and the conversation with Danzo playing over and over… and over again.

As he continued to pet his cat, his parents' last gift to him, silent tears began to flow down his cheeks, unnoticed even by himself. Before he realized it, he was drifting, caught in the gentle push and pull of sleep. His eyes fluttered shut, his hand stilled against Tsuki's warm fur as the room quieted, leaving only the sound of Tsuki's rhythmic purring.

"I have quite the knack for getting attached to problematic kids," Teresa murmured, a faint smile on her face as she watched Takeshi from a corner of the room. "Then again… maybe I'm the problematic one, who knows."